


Cathartic Release

by LadyLanera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 15, Angry Gabriel (Supernatural), Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Gabriel Lives (Supernatural: Exodus), Gabriel-centric (Supernatural), Gen, Inspired By Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLanera/pseuds/LadyLanera
Summary: Sometimes a person just has to write out their painful lessons in order to move on and feel the sun on their face again.
Kudos: 11





	Cathartic Release

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies. Hopefully, you're all doing well as you can in these trying times. This fic came from a prompt over on Tumblr by write-it-motherfuckers. The prompt was to write something based off Linkin Park's song 'Figure', and, well, I freaking absolutely love Linkin Park so this happened. [Prompt](https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/618867829871116288/song-of-the-day-the-song-of-the-day-is/embed)

Lucifer

Loki

Asmodeus

Chuck

Sitting alone in the room he had chosen for himself in the bunker, the amber-eyed man scoffed loudly a sneer crossing his face before he quickly scratched out ~~Chuck~~ and replaced the word with Dad. Because it was true. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, Chuck was his father. Though, Chuck was everyone's father in reality if one thought about it, being, well, God, Supreme Heavenly Daddy-o, or as the youngest archangel liked to call him nowadays 'Fucking Murderous Narcissistic Man Child with a Dumbass Beard.'

Blindly reaching for the fat bottle he had taken from one of the numerous hiding spots in the underground building, the isolated warrior of—whatever—took another swig from it, closing his eyes when the bitter, horseshoe-tasting liquor hit his taste buds. The alcohol barely registered thanks to his Grace, but he didn't care. This was a long time coming. He needed to get all of this out once and for all before it destroyed him. And he'd be fucking pissed if it ruined his happy ending, ruined all that he had fought for, all that he had died for, all that he had ever wanted.

Glowing amber orbs locked onto the first name on his list as the angry rock music from the early 2000s blasted around his room. He could feel the other bunker inhabitants' annoyance with him—all except one person. But that person had been the one who told him to deal with his pain in the first place before he fucked everything up royally. Which, in hindsight, was laughable considering that it was Dean Freakin' Winchester, Mister-Running-from-his-pain-since-forever.

He scoffed, taking another long drink. More of the bitter battery acid-like liquor rushed down his vessel's esophagus to settle uneasily. He'd focus on the first name then. He'd work his way up like he had when he got his revenge on Loki and the others for the whole betrayal crap.

Lucifer.

He glanced upwards, breathing in deeply and quite needlessly. How was it that his dick of an older brother, Satan himself, was the lesser of all these evils?

Growing up—if one could really say angels ever grew up—he had looked up to his beautiful older brother, the favored son. He had worshipped Lucifer, loved him so much that it nearly destroyed him when he saw the magnificence of his brother twist and warp into the thing he became. Oh, he had made such excuses for his older brother, more than he could recall anymore. He defended him time and time again whenever Mikey was bored and decided to start up the stupid meaningless arguments that Ralphie always fanned the embers into a raging inferno between them over and over and over. It was never ending. And he hated it with every bit of his Grace inside.

It had been eons since the four Heavenly brothers were last together up in their golden gate, fluffy cloud palace high above their Father's Paradise of his most prized possessions. Lucifer was dead now. His vessel abandoned callously in the bleak, desolate Apocalypse World without a single sympathetic thought given to the unfortunate human victimized soul his brother had forced into obedience. Raphael was also long dead now, thanks to Castiel and his power tripping with souls. The youngest archangel honestly was okay with that death, though. And Michael—he was up in Heaven now, swearing that he understood humanity in ways he never could before thanks to Adam Milligan. Gabriel, however, was on Earth, his Father's Paradise, walking without having to glance over his shoulder or dreading the next big bad threat to humanity. He was also extremely grateful that for once he didn't die fighting for the Greater Good. Four brothers: two alive (Heaven bound while the other was Earth bound) and two deceased (one nothing but a puddle of goo and the other slowly rotting in a broken world).

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he let the music serenade him, move him. Where would he even begin with this letter? It wasn't just Luci. It was all of his older brothers. They tore one another apart, destroyed all bonds they ever had, all their love for one another and replaced it with hatred, coldness, darkness. His eyes flew open as a thought occurred. Yes. He could write that. He leaned forward, grabbing the pen and letting the words flow out.

_Brothers,_

_I loved you with all my heart. But it's time to be honest. We poisoned one another. We ruined each other. We were the original sinners, not Humanity. Michael: an embodiment of Greed; Lucifer: Pride; Raphael: Wrath; and me: Gluttony, Lust, or Sloth. Take your pick. Case can be made for all of them unfortunately._

_You see, when I first met the Winchesters, I despised them. So, I played my usual tricks on them to get them to back off. But they didn't. Instead, they surprised me. They showed the strength that is in humanity that we lack. And in doing this, they renewed my faith._

_However, instead of letting go of my pain from our times together up in Heaven, Brothers, and heal through their continued numerous examples of loving support of one another, I let the bitterness take root inside. Looking at them, I couldn't help but be reminded of us at times. So, the resentment inside grew the more they reminded me how we could have had that if we would have just gotten over ourselves for once._

_It's because of that anger I held onto that Dean realized who I really am. They reminded me, and they forced me this time to do what I should have long ago. We could have had that, Brothers. We could have been happy. Instead, we are forever separated, apart, alone. And that will be our punishment for our sins. Our burdens we have to carry._

_So, thanks, Assholes._

He finished the last bit with a flourish and a wry, faint smile. One letter done. Three more to go. He turned slowly back to his bottle, picking it up and tipped it back once more. Like smoky leather cured in a rainstorm and left out to dry in humidity. That was how he'd describe this wretched bottle of crap he was currently drinking. He didn't like it, but it was the strongest thing he could find at the time.

His heart ached when his mind decided to take that very moment to recall the memory from earlier. The kind, loving hazel eyes quickly darted from his amber in obvious disapproval and disappointment at the sight of him walking off with the bottle. He'd smooth things over later with the giant of Kansas, but right now he needed to do what Dean told him to do. Because the eldest Winchester was right. He had to move on and let go if ever wanted to achieve his true happiness.

Shaking his head, he looked back over his list, crossing the first one off it.

~~Lucifer~~

Loki

Asmodeus

~~Chuck~~ Dad

Onto the next one. He snapped his fingers to replay the song for what had to be the hundredth time already. However, he needed that particular song to play in the background. It spoke to him the loudest. It screamed his pain as if it knew. Though, he had found earlier that most of the songs sung by the American alt rock band from sunny California seemed to understand him the best. Who would have thought? He was always more of a country person actually, but he needed the anger in order to get the words out. And country would either be too romantic sounding or just damn depressing for him.

Loki. He snorted derisively, rolling his eyes. Where did he even begin to unload that emotional crapshoot? They had been friends—well, acquaintances at the very least. Or so he thought they were. However, being sold off to Colonel Sanderdouche had been a wake-up call to say the least. Loki had used him just as he had done to the Norse Trickster.

Sure, Odin was supposedly the main reason for Loki's revenge, but Gabriel knew the truth. He had become a complication to the demigod. It had likely gotten around like wildfire that he wasn't quite pulling the tricks he used to anymore, so people were probably suspecting that he was getting soft. The image of Loki was the only thing that damn fool ever cared about. The rest was just meaningless. He wanted one thing and one thing alone: To be considered the best by everyone. Gabriel just wasn't helping matters anymore once he met the Winchesters.

_Loki,_

_You backstabbing dick! I so badly wanted to feel like myself again after killing you and your sons. But no cigar. The boys warned me of it, though, but I was too stubborn to listen._

_You let me become you so you could tiptoe around without any worries. I did the same. It's taken me a long time to realize this, but I get it now. I changed my entire self to become you, to sell myself for the role of a century in order to hide from my family. And in doing so, I lost myself. I forgot who I am._

_I became you. I used your words. I used your tricks. Hell, I even slept with your lovers occasionally._

_Here's me shedding you._

_You said I'd die for nothing in the end. Jokes on you, pal. I didn't die this time. I stood my ground, as I should have done long ago, and chose to fight. Oh, that bastardized version of my brother Michael tried, though. He so_ _ tried _ _to kill me. And he would have succeeded too, but, you see, I finally learned my last lesson._

_I'm not weak. I'm not pathetic. I don't need others to fight my battles. I never did. Instead of running, instead of hiding, instead of becoming you, instead of all of it, I should have ignored all the doubters, all the haters, all the yes-men._

_So, guess what, Norse asshole?_

_You're the one who stood and died for nothing. Not me._

_Because I stand and fight for Humanity, for the idiots who know they're going to die but still hold their ground because through their actions, they might help win the war—whatever one that is._

_And you? You stood for yourself and only for yourself._

_Enjoy the Empty, jackass._

He drew in another needless breath, his eyes widening slightly at the feel of lightness that was washing over him. His eyes closed in appreciation as he relished that sense surrounding him. He raised a hand a moment later, snapping his fingers and undoing the long trick he had been playing. He felt his Grace shimmer down his vessel, reacting to the spell's end. Once the tingling had passed, he craned his neck to the left and then to the right.

His vessel was still the same as it had been before: 5'8", wavy slightly burnt golden hair, amber eyes, and a permanent troublemaker look. However, to Gabriel himself, it felt so much comfier than it had ever felt before because his True Form finally could breathe again. He pushed himself up off the desk, carefully pulling the t-shirt up and over his head before he tossed it onto the bed. His shoulders rolled for a minute, and his eyes glanced once more at the door. With another snap, he locked the room. Just to be sure no humans ended up accidentally walking in on him. He altered the room with another snap to accommodate and then inhaled deeply one last time.

His head fell back a second later, and his eyes burst with the powerful brilliant bluish-white Grace. His massive wings unfolded, stretching as far and wide as it could without disturbing the room. He then snapped his fingers again, growing the room more and altering it into an endless clearing. Once he was certain he had the dimensions right this time, he opened his mouth and exhaled loudly.

It wasn't long before his True Form took complete control over his vessel. He stretched out lazily, his form sagging in relief at the freedom. It had been too long since he could just be himself again. He chuckled deeply, hearing his voice ring back to him. He was free. Finally. He rushed around like a playful conglomerate of various different animals, rolling around finally on the ground a few minutes later like a corgi who had found its pet parent's stash of hallucinogens. His hands lazily moved through the air as he glowed fiercely in the dark.

Like all good things, though, it soon came to an end with a harsh snap. He returned back to his vessel and sighed heavily, running a hand through his shaggy hair. That had been fun while it lasted. He'd do it again. Another snap, and he was back in his room sitting at the small desk again, pen in hand.

~~Lucifer~~

~~Loki~~

Asmodeus

~~Chuck~~ Dad

Two more to go. The song restarted itself without help this time, and he nodded sharply. He could do this. He had it.

_Douchenozzle,_

_Fuck you! Fuck! You!_

_You abused me for years. Locked me up like an animal. You stole my Grace. Degraded me. Treated me like I was nothing but a tap to you. You did everything in your power to break me._

_Guess what, Colonel Sanders?_

_You lost._

_You may have left deep scars to me, physical and otherwise, but I will be damned if I let you win this time. Roasting you as I did, it wasn't nearly the torture I wanted, but it did its job. I should have fought you more. I should have used my voice and made you bleed like the stuck pig you are. I should have savored that moment of defeating you. Given you a taste of your own damn medicine in one of my hellscapes I've dreamed up for you._

_But I didn't. Because guess what, asshole? You reminded me who I am._

_I'm the Archangel Fucking Gabriel! I'm the one who told Mary she was knocked up among a hell of a lot of things. I've died for humanity, faked my death a couple hundred times too. But when it comes down to it, I see the good in them. You couldn't take that from me. Though, you tried._

_So, I guess, I have just one last thing to say to you._

_I hope you're enjoying your little secret Hell in the Empty with Loki and my brothers. I wish you a lifetime of agony and despair there. It won't come close to what I felt in your captivity, but I doubt anything would._

_In conclusion . . . Fuck you!_

His laughter bubbled out as he reread his letter. Yeah, that got the point across rather nicely. He scratched out his second to last name.

~~Lucifer~~

~~Loki~~

~~Asmodeus~~

~~Chuck~~ Dad

His brief good mood faltered for half a second before he inhaled again and blew it back out loudly, expelling out all the emotions that had swirled underneath the surface for ages. His rich amber eyes stared at the last name on his list for a few moments. Supremo Numero Uno—Daddy-o, the entity responsible for his creation, of all creation. The hardest one to write to on his list if he were honest.

_Dad,_

_In the beginning—because I know you're a sucker for those sorts of pathetic starts—you created your monsters: Leviathans, us, our little winged siblings, those cute free-will loving humans, whatever. I looked up to Lucifer, yes, like any little brother does, but I absolutely loved you completely and wholeheartedly. I did everything you asked. I never questioned it. Not once. Because you were my dad._

_But, you see, I've grown thanks to the Winchesters. I've become a better person because of them. Because no matter what you threw at them, they relied on each other, focused on their strong bond of familial love to get them through the hard times, and accepted us broken and discarded toys of yours._

_You'll always be a part of me. I can't deny that. So will all the other assholes I've had to deal with over my long life. You'll always be right there inside, reminding me of all the crap you've ever done, of all the crap_ _ I've _ _ever done in your name. Eventually, I think I let myself become you in a way, vindictive, egotistical, narcissistic, you name it._

_But guess what, Pops?_

_Just like Luci, Mikey, and Ralphie, and later like Loki and Asmodouche, I'm going to drop you. I'm going to work and throw myself into becoming someone not defined by you assholes. I'm done, Dad. I'm so done with all of it. You wanted us to learn free will? Well, Daddy-o, here's me exhibiting my free will and choosing to break the cycle finally._

_You wanted me to be a killer. You wanted all of us to fight in your name. You wanted to break us completely just so you could have your perfect tragic story that everyone would rave about forever._

_Sorry not sorry to throw a wrench in that plan of yours and stand with all the others, the helpless victims in your shitty story whom you repeatedly tortured over the years._

_I'm the reason you're locked up. Me! Dean and Sam, they wanted you dead. Hell, even Cassie wanted you dead. They all agreed with Death that Jack would make a better God than you. And they're right. Sure, the kid's got a few rough spots on him. But that's why he's got me and Cassie, and, hell, Michael even to help him._

_We're going to rebuild all that you broke. It's going to take forever, but we're going to do it._

_And eventually in time, the world,_ _ME_ , _we'll forget about you and will move on past our pain, past our loss, past the darkness you threw onto us. We'll forget all about you and your reign of terror._

_How's that for a tragedy for you, Dad?_

_With loving hatred,_

_Gabriel 'The Fucking' Archangel_

The air punched out of his lungs harshly as he pulled his pen back from the paper once he signed it. He had done it. He had finished his last letter. Closing his eyes, he set his pen down silently and leaned back. His wings unfurled again, stretching out carefully before they came up in a display of power. He could feel his Grace ripple through his vessel, charging the air as it did. His fingers curled into his palms to stave off the human reaction he could feel bubbling up inside. His nails dug into the flesh painfully, but it was no use.

The first fat tear rolled down his cheek before another joined in. He trembled in the chair, quickly taking an angry swipe at the offending wetness splashing his face. However, the second his hand brushed over his cheek, he felt the terrible despair that he had always pushed aside burst free.

He gasped, quickly wrapping his arms around his midsection. His beautiful golden wings that shimmered a deep blue every now and then protectively covered him to shield him from the outside world. His arms crossed then as he bent forward, his chin dropping as he tried to regain control again.

A choked sob then erupted out of him as the tears poured out. He squeezed his eyes tighter before he eventually just surrendered to it. He cried out his anger, his frustration, his loss. All the betrayals, the heartbreak, the blood, the tears, it wept out his pain, pooling at his feet. Eventually, no more tears fell, and his wings gradually lowered before the vanished back to the other plane. He sat there for another few moments, staring emptily at the plain gray wall in front of him.

He meant his words earlier. They were all reminders of what not to do, of what not to become. He'd choose love and his new family instead of the hatred and his real family gave him. He'd choose himself instead of hiding behind someone else's mask. He'd choose to accept his trauma and put in the work of healing finally instead of pretending that he was strong by doling out pain onto others. He'd finally choose to write his own story, his own ending, and it would be happy instead of the crappy tragic, pain-inducing one his father had written for them.

An unexpected knock against his door caused him to frown. He had thought he'd have been left undisturbed to complete his task doled out by the eldest Winchester. Obviously not. The person outside his door knocked again lightly. With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the desk and walked towards the bed to throw his shirt back on again. As he did, he caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink and shook his head. Well, he looked like shit. But he supposed that was to be expected considering the hell he just went through emotionally. He did his best to wipe away the tear tracks and sighed.

Unlocking the door, he opened it a moment later, throwing it wide open.

"Hey," quietly murmured the ridiculously tall man who towered over him. Sam gave him a faint smile of awkward politeness. It was obvious the kind soul had likely heard his outburst earlier but was trying his hardest not to let that show. "Are you all right?"

Gabriel stared up at him silently before he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around his moose. He closed his eyes when he felt the immediate response of strong arms enveloping him in return followed by the heavy weight of the man's chin resting on top of him lightly. They stood there for several minutes. Neither spoke. He remained tucked underneath Sam's head and in the man's arms for what seemed to be eons before he finally sighed quietly, knowing this couldn't last forever.

"No." He reluctantly pulled away from where he had been listening to Jolly Green Giant's heart and glanced up through somber amber eyes. "But I'll get there eventually I think."

The human smiled down kindly and nodded silently.

"You finished it then?" Hazel eyes darted over to the desk.

"Just now."

Sam forced a quiet laugh before he dragged his hand across the back of his neck and shifted his weight. "Me too."

"What?" Gabriel's brows furrowed in confusion. Dean had given that ultimatum to him.

"Come on," the shaggy-haired man replied with a simple, light smile. "Grab your letters and let me show you something."

Gabriel frowned but obeyed.

They walked out of the room a moment later and headed down the long corridor. When they entered the massive library several minutes later, the youngest archangel found himself even more confused by the sight in front of him.

"What's going on?"

Castiel was standing next to Dean who was leaning against one of the tables. Normally, that wouldn't have been so worrying, but it was the way both of their heads came up together when Gabriel and Sam walked in that unsettled him.

"You finished them then?" Dean remarked, jerking his head towards the letters in the shorter man's hands.

"Yes." Amber eyes then darted towards Sam. "Guys, what's going on here?"

It was Castiel who answered. "We decided to join you, Brother." He flashed his dorky gummy smile. "We each wrote a letter ourselves."

"Yeah," Dean picked up with a nonchalant shrug. "It wasn't fair of me to tell you to get your head of your ass and deal with all of that crap when we never have. So, you know, what Cas said."

His eyes widened when he finally noticed the letters on the table. There were more than his four silly letters on that pile.

"All of you wrote something?"

"We did," Sam stated at his side, pulling out a rolled-up piece of paper from his back pocket.

"Uh," Gabriel started to say, floundering for words. Why would they do it with him? The sounds of wingbeats a second later made him glance towards the noise, finding his older brother and nephew now with their own letters in hand.

"Because you are our family, Uncle Gabe," Jack declared with a wide grin, his blue eyes radiant in the gentle lights of the bunker as he and Michael both added their letters to the already large pile.

The angel glanced at each of them before he nodded slowly. "And family don't end in blood. Yeah—" Gabriel snorted "—I got it." He should have known.

Sam chuckled beside him. "Come on. Let's finally end this."

"Exactly," quipped the green-eyed hunter. "And then later we can all get hammered."

"Dean," Castiel quietly warned.

"Fine," groaned Dean. "Sammy and I can get drunk. You guys can just watch over us. Deal?"

The blue-eyed angel inclined his head with a playful smirk tugging at his chapped lips.

When Sam tossed his letter on top of the growing pile in the silver basin, he glanced expectedly towards the archangel and motioned for him to add his.

Gabriel inhaled instinctively, a silly habit he had learned from the humans. He took several steps towards the pile and paused with them still in his outstretched hand. At the feel of Sam's hand against his shoulder, he finally tossed them into the basin and stepped back.

The angels and men stared at it for half a moment. Each letter was a physical representation of their combined pain. And, damn, had they suffered greatly over it.

"Gabe?"

Amber eyes jerked up again, meeting the neutral greens.

"Want to do the honors?" Dean asked.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you," the hunter scoffed.

He stared back for a few moments before he shook his head. No. He couldn't be the one to destroy all their pain-filled letters. Licking his lips slowly, he forced an awkward smile.

"Normally, I'd be all for snapping my fingers alone for you, Bucko," he drawled, brushing off Dean's eyeroll, "but this time I'm going to do one better." He snapped his fingers dramatically then, noticing the second the humans did that he had temporarily altered them. "You now have one snap of magic. Let's use it wisely, Boys." He felt himself beam in pride when he caught Sam's unbridled glee.

Together, a moment later, two archangels, a Nephilim, a Seraph, and two hunters snapped their fingers as one. And the pile of letters instantly went up in flames and turned to ash.


End file.
